


Born to Strange Sights

by seitentaisei



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy Romance, M/M, Thorin as a fallen star
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seitentaisei/pseuds/seitentaisei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had never thought to cross the wall between the Shire and the enchanted Elder Lands, but now he's long past the border,  searching for mandrake root and mermaids and trying to catch a falling star. It's all part of a spell that will, somehow, save the Shire from a great Fell Winter. </p>
<p>Of all the impossible tasks he's been given, catching the star seemed the easiest until Bilbo finds a dwarf instead a smoldering chunk of space rock. A very handsome, very angry dwarf that is immensely displeased that he's fallen from his place in the heavens-- even if Bilbo is amused to find that even stars get lost sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on John Donne's poem "Song: Go and catching a falling star" and I've drawn a bit of inspiration from both Stardust by Neil Gaiman and Howl's Moving Castle by Dianna Wynne Jones. Both of these books use this poem differently but very well and I love the concepts this poem has inspired. Drawing just a bit from both of them, I'm still very much trying to do something different with it, so don't expect a retelling of either novel here. 
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for checking it out.

Bilbo Baggins was full too young to be sampling his father’s pipeweed, but this wasn’t the first time he’d done such a thing. On more than one occasion, he’d nicked just a bit for himself and hurried out into the trees. There was a beautiful stream in the woods outside the Shire, a natural barrier between the peaceful hobbit folk and the Elder Lands beyond it. Despite the fact that Bilbo could just make out the edges of the old stone wall that hinted at the wilder world so close, this particular spot by the stream was quite the most peaceful place for miles around to have a relaxing smoke.

Honestly, Bilbo has never been considered rebellious by Shire standards. A certain level of rebellion was always expected from even the sweetest faunts, but the most that Bilbo got into was being too quick to throw rocks and a bit too eager to sample pipeweed. Just a couple of years shy of a birthday that would tip him over into adulthood, even the pipeweed wasn’t too scandalous anymore.

Of course, this was a great comfort to his father and a great disappointment to his mother. Belladonna was always a bit wild, and even marriage to a sturdy steadfast hobbit like Bungo couldn’t calm her down completely. If she encouraged Bilbo to be a bit wild too, this didn’t overly vex Bungo either. He was hardly unaware that Belladonna helped Bilbo get into the wine and pipeweed now and then, and though he didn’t strictly approve, he didn’t try to stop her either.

Bungo may have valued politeness and respectability more than any other hobbit in the Shire, but his major flaw was his tendency towards spoiling and indulging his family.

On this fine April morning, that indulgence proved to be unexpectedly important. Bilbo sat at the edge of the water, dipping his feet into the cool stream, and he was unaware that powerful magic stirred at the edges of the Shire. Bilbo amused himself by blowing smoke rings, watching them rise up and away, and it was only as one floated particularly high that he noticed anything amiss.

“Why, those almost look like snow clouds,” Bilbo said aloud to himself. “But it’s much too late for snow. Pity that- I have always loved snow. Though if it snowed now, all those little flowers starting to sprout in our garden might be frozen out, and I prefer the flowers anyhow.”

This was how Bilbo often conducted himself on his stream visits with his pipe- having a lazy conversation with himself and a book lying forgotten at his elbow. It was not long after these idle musings that Bilbo heard his mother’s voice shouting for him. Something in her tone had him leaping to attention and running back down the path toward home. The thought that perhaps some animal had wandered too close to town struck him and he ran faster.

When he came through the trees enough to see her, she seemed whole and fine for the moment, but her expression didn’t calm his nerves.

“Oh thank heavens,” Belladonna cried, grabbing him into a too tight embrace. Bilbo had been taller than her by several inches since his last birthday, and she pulled him down to leave relieved kisses on his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a bit breathless. He looked her over for injuries or signs of distress and found none. “Did the chickens get loose again?”

Belladonna huffed out a laugh, but the humor only lasted a moment.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so come back and see the ill tidings I have to show you. I was coming out to bring you home and I’d not got that far up the road before…” She shook her head instead of finishing her thought and hurried him back down the path. The sight that greeted Bilbo was so unbelievable that he actually stopped dead in his tracks while he tried to process what he was seeing. The whole of the Shire had been the very picture of a town in the full bloom of spring, and the birds were already coming back to make their summer nests. Even the early blooming flowers were starting to come out, much to every hobbit’s delight.

Now, though, snow covered the whole of it again, and the wind was cold enough to sting Bilbo’s face as it blew through the trees. Snow was still falling, and though it seemed to be slowing down, it was already piled worryingly high. Belladonna took his hand and urged him forward into the snow.

The way up was more dangerous than it should have been, and they slipped on ice and snow. Bilbo’s feet ached in the cold, but he was distracted with how wrong the whole of the Shire truly was. Even during winter, hobbits were always bustling about, but now not a single one stirred in the whole town. Sick fear -- not only for his father but for his neighbors as well -- churned in his stomach from the unnatural quiet and stillness. Only he and his mother seemed to have been out of the town borders when this strange storm hit, and he wondered what had happened to those that were left behind.

‘I suppose I shall soon see,’ he thought as he neared home, his mother already dragging the large green door open through the snow.

Pausing a moment at the door, Bilbo rubbed his freezing wet feet on the mat, trying to get some feeling back into his numb toes. His muscles complained from his sprint through the cold, and his breathing was ragged. Still, nothing compared to the panic and worry of turning the corner to find his mother dropped down onto her knees in front of his father’s favorite armchair.

Bungo sat slumped as though he were merely taking a nap, and it would be a fairly normal position to see him in usually. This time though, his lips were blue, and it seemed at first glance that he wasn’t breathing at all. Bilbo hurried closer to his father and saw just the barest hint of the rise and fall of his chest.

He sighed in temporary relief and came to stand at Bungo’s side.

“Bungo, Bungo,” Belladonna whispered urgently as she shook her husband’s shoulders. She moved her hands to his face, and she shivered. “He’s so cold…”

Bilbo saw his chance to be useful, and he moved away quickly to get blankets to bundle his father up in. Only for the briefest moment did he feel helpful. After carefully tucking the blanket in around Bungo, Bilbo hovered over his mother as he waited for more direction and fretted with the buttons on his waistcoat. All his life, he looked to his mother first for answers, and now was no different. Belladonna always had the answers. To Bilbo, she was an endless fountain of knowledge and experience… even with things so rare in the Shire as magic.

For magic this must surely be.

When he saw her expression twist in confusion, his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

“We need Gandalf,” Belladonna announced then, kissing Bungo’s hand before tucking it away beneath the blanket.

Bilbo had met Gandalf, of course. The old man was some sort of wanderer that Belladonna met on her adventures when she was younger, and he’d come to the Shire a few times with fireworks, treats, and tales the likes of which Bilbo had never encountered before -- or since.

“How are we going to find him fast enough? Gandalf could be anywhere!” Bilbo’s voice sounded strange to his own ears, more a terrified squeak than anything else.

Belladonna noticed, and she forced a warm smile as she took Bilbo’s face into her hands. “Shh, shh, it’s alright. I can contact him. He’s probably…” She took a breath and spared a glance out the window. “He’s probably out in the Elder Lands.”

“What?” he replied, his rising panic even more apparent. “How will we ever get word to him there?”

In the Elder Lands! Of all the fool places to be!

Bilbo knew that Gandalf in some ages past had journeyed there, sometimes with one or two of the more adventurous hobbits at his side. When he became aware of the old man’s visits out into the Elder lands, Bilbo finally understood all the thinly veiled suspicions the older hobbits always leveled at Gandalf. Despite that, as a faunt, Bilbo had adored him and hadn’t seen anything amiss in a bit of good fun and exciting tales from far off lands. Since then, of course, Bilbo had grown up and had always figured those adventures now happened on the safe side of the world. If he was the type to go adventuring past the wall even when he was surely old enough to know better, then Gandalf couldn’t be quite right after all.  
Bilbo’s thoughts were cut short by his mother’s voice.

“I can send him word…” She rose and moved out of the room, fretting with her curls as she went. It was a familiar nervous habit that was oddly soothing despite how strange the situation was.

After a moment with no further words, Bilbo reluctantly left his father’s side and followed after Belladonna. She unlocked her glory box and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Then she motioned him forward and led him to her bedroom. She heaved a long low sigh before sitting heavily on the bed. Bilbo hovered at the doorway, and curiosity warred with his worry and fear.

When she finally met his eyes, Bilbo found uncertainty in her gaze and a distraught twist to her lips. An expression like this always came with some particularly hard news, and Bilbo almost took a step back. This wasn’t something he could avoid though, and he knew it. So instead, he came close to her and sat at her side.

“You’ve always been such a good boy,” she murmured to him softly, fingers undoing the cloth of the bundle. There was a small hand mirror tucked into the fabric. “An old soul, Bungo likes to say, and it’s true. You’re an old soul, sure enough, but a clever one. I should’ve told you these things sooner.”

Bilbo smiled a little at the description of himself and took it all as a compliment even though others his age would be insulted. The humor didn’t last long, and he asked softly, “Tell me what things, Mother?”

She reluctantly met his eyes then. “You know I went on adventures when I was young, of course.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Even though we’re not supposed to talk about them overmuch.”

“Indeed. You know I’ve been beyond the boundary and out into lands of magic, elves, and fairies. It’s where I met Gandalf- he’s a wizard, you know. I’ve never told anyone but your father that. I’m sure half the hobbits in the Shire would laugh if you said such a thing, but there it is.”

For several long moments, Bilbo struggled with this. He’d always believed her stories of magic and fairies and the like, but to hear someone that he’d seen in the Shire was something so fantastical as a wizard… well, that was a bit more difficult to process. Everything about the Shire was normal and quiet. It was a peaceful, almost lazy place to spend much time in. While the Shire was certainly ordinary, it was beautiful for all that, and Bilbo could hardly imagine Gandalf working spells out on the rolling hills of the Shire.

Then he looked out the window at the steadily falling snow, and he has to shake his head. Bilbo offered his mother a wry small smile and said, “Well, that’s not nearly as earth shattering a reveal as it could be. There’s undeniably magic in the Shire now, and it just turns out it wasn’t the first time. It makes sense that Gandalf would be a wizard- always has been odd, that one, and he never fully appreciated the comfort of a steady home either. Why, I’m surprised I didn’t work that out on my own.”

Belladonna laughed at him, a tinkling musical sound for all that it was weaker than usual. Color rushed to his cheeks as he realized that she was laughing at him for talking too much. His mother teased him for being a bit long winded, because Bilbo had taken after Bungo in that regard. Belladonna believed that anything worth saying had best be concise, and that one should always get to the point sooner rather than later.

By some miracle, she found Bungo and Bilbo’s habit of rambling endearing rather than infuriating.

She leaned forward and kissed his pink cheeks. “It’s so easy for you to accept that Gandalf is a wizard because he doesn’t settle down.” She laughed again, even softer this time, and shook her head. “But there is more for me to share with you than that. Whatever happens will begin quickly once Gandalf gets here and I… I just need you to know the truth first.”

“What truth, Mother? About what?”

“You know that sometimes there are whispers that Old Took had a fairy wife?” she said, voice anxious.

Bilbo felt as though cold water has been doused over his shoulders, and he could only manage a weak hum and a nod.

\--

Bilbo sat at the bench before Bag End covered in a thick blanket and watched for Gandalf. He barely believed that the wizard might show up anytime soon even though he’d watched the old man’s face appear in the glass of his mother’s mirror. To be fair, the whole thing seemed like a dream already, and the entire time Belladonna had talked to Gandalf’s moving reflection, Bilbo had felt rather numb.

Besides, Bilbo was much more concerned with the ‘news’ his mother had given him. It wasn’t really every day that a hobbit found out that their family indeed had fairy blood in them.

Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t really upset with the news. Conflicted would be a more apt description of his reaction, because despite the dread of being somehow less than respectable, he’d also felt a quiet thrill of excitement at the idea.

But then the excitement made him feel almost guilty, and he’d begun to worry again.

All his life, he’d been raised a Baggins, and that family name came with a certain degree of old respectability. Few other hobbit names came with quite the same degree of longstanding propriety and honor in the Shire. (This was probably partially related to their wealth which was, of course, earned through reputable means unlike the Took family fortune.)

Thankfully, Belladonna had also told him that this fairy blood didn’t come with any sort of magic or power beyond the common way. Surely fairy magic would have made Bilbo’s struggle worse, because he knew by Shire reckoning that such a power would be poorly looked upon. So, his only struggle was with the truth of having family who hailed from the Elder Lands. At least, given proper time, he could rationalize that away as an inconsequential detail. While hobbits could be judgmental, they’d hardly condemn him with something that he was born with so long as he stayed upright in every other way.

Bilbo had no intentions of ever running off into the wild blue yonder, and if sometimes a Tookish part of him longed to meet elves like in his mother’s stories, it was easy enough for his Baggins side to stamp all that down with reminders of just how uncomfortable parts of his mother’s adventures had sounded.

These unpleasant thoughts had the unexpected benefit of distracting him from the Shire’s current predicament. Bilbo was brought back to the present by a powerful gust of wind snatching his blanket from his shoulders. Stumbling to his feet, he grabbed fruitlessly at the air, and he watched as his blanket flew clear down the front path. A figure at the front gate stooped to pick the blanket up, and as he straightened, Bilbo found himself face to face with Gandalf.

Bilbo’s heart leapt into his throat, and he froze in place, almost positive no one had been standing there a moment before. Gandalf’s height-even stooped as he was- had made Bilbo’s shock all the worse. He brought a hand up to his heart as he tried to calm his breathing and pulse. Blinking rapidly, he leaned around Gandalf to look in the snow behind him. There were no footprints leading up to the gate, but there were two large boots sitting abandoned in the snow. The shock of the moment had him losing his politeness.

"Oh dear heavens, you gave me quite a fright! How in the world did you get here?!” This question came out sounding more like a demand than a question really, and Bilbo looked up at him expectantly.

The wizard didn’t look a day older despite all the years he’d been away, and his eyes sparkled in a strange knowing way that still somehow managed to look mischievous. He chuckled softly at Bilbo and arched a brow.

"It’s been an age, Bilbo my boy, but I must say I’m not sure you’ve grown that much.”

The laughter, the jibe, and the pointed avoidance of the question irritated him, and Bilbo puffed up a bit in admittedly unfair indignation.

Knowing that Gandalf was some sort of gallivanting adventuring wizard probably didn't help his mood or his manners much either.

Bilbo strode forward to snatch his blanket back. “I beg to differ,” he replied, voice tight with stress. “I’m even taller than Mother now.”

“Are you?” Gandalf's twinkling eyes seemed to laugh at him. “Perhaps you can lead me to dear Belladonna, and I can judge for myself.”

With a huff and feeling somehow foolish, Bilbo led him into the house to where his mother was keeping a vigil next to Bungo’s chair.

Belladonna looked up to Gandalf, and with a cry of relief, she launched toward him to be swept up in a tight hug. Gandalf narrowly missed colliding with the chandelier as he moved to catch her, and after several long moments of a quiet comforting embrace, he pushed her away with gentle hands.

“I’m so glad you could get here so fast, my friend,” Belladonna said then. “Thank you for coming.”

“Seven league boots,” the wizard replied. “Quite useful, even if they’re a bit worn these days.”

"I can believe it. They were old when I traveled with you, and it's been many years since then."

For a moment, they talked of times before, and Bilbo hovered at the corner of the room, eyes flickering between his parents and Gandalf. Honestly, he almost felt like an invader in his own home listening to such a fanciful conversation.

Finally, Belladonna offered him a weak smile and turned to the problem at hand. “Have you ever seen anything like this Gandalf? I’ve been trying to wake him, and the snow hasn’t stopped…”

Her hands were tugging at her curls again, eyes tired and worried. Only now did Bilbo finally step forward into the room to put an arm about his mother’s shoulders to support her. She hardly needed it because she was as strong a woman as there ever was. She seemed happier for it though, and the closeness was comforting for Bilbo as well. Gandalf regarded them both quietly for a moment before he bowed his head, and Bilbo imagined that he saw the first real glint of worry spark in the old wizard's eyes.

"I'm afraid I have an idea," he said slowly. "But it's not an easily remedied problem."

There was a change in his mother then, and he saw it up close. She raised herself to full height, and her eyes became sharp, jaw tense, in a look more calculating that he’d ever seen.

“But you know the remedy,” Belladonna said. “Tell me what I must do. Whatever it is, I’ll get it done, and don’t you doubt it Gandalf.”

This side of Belladonna, Bilbo had only seen glimpses of before. It wasn’t often necessary for her to get so worked up and so serious. She’d only needed that iron will a few times in the Shire where social mores and her wealth had most hobbits behaving around her. It wasn’t difficult to see his mother as an adventurer, but usually she seemed too gentle and too settled for it.

But it had just taken a moment to pull that adventurer out of her again. She was every bit a warrior who would pick up a sword and go to battle for her home if it was required of her.

“I knew you’d say as much,” Gandalf said with a note of pride and a good deal of fondness in his tone. “But this is going to require more than one of you.”

Two pairs of eyes turned to Bilbo at the same moment, and he took two steps back raising his hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Er, tell me what you need,” he said slowly, and he was torn between nervous excitement and dread. “And I’ll see what I can do?”

Gandalf’s smile returned, and Bilbo was almost certain that was a bad sign for him. Gandalf sat down and took out a pipe as he looked appraisingly at Bungo still slumped in his chair. Following his lead, Belladonna sat near him, and Bilbo perched on a footstool.

“I believe you both have heard of Fell Winters, yes?” He didn’t pause to give them time to answer. “There hasn’t been one in the Shire for many decades- centuries perhaps- and so it seems that it is time again for another.”

“This has happened before.” Belladonna’s tension eased a little. “So truly you know what to do.”

“Yes. Though it’s good you called me so immediately. Rarely are they bad enough to throw Men or hobbits or dwarves into a Fell slumber like this, and the unnatural chill could easily have…” He shook his head and refused to continue that line of thought, but Belladonna and Bilbo understood well enough what the implication was. “My magic alone cannot break this winter, but I know one who can likely find a way.”

“Let’s go then!” Belladonna said. “If it really is so unnatural and dangerous…” She glanced over at Bungo. “Then we should be getting started already.”

“Oh hobbits are resilient,” Gandalf said gently. “And they could withstand this strange magic longer yet… but I’m afraid it would be too late by the time we got back to save them if we simply left now.”

“So we shouldn’t try?” she replied with barely restrained rage. She was on her feet, eyes blazing, and Bilbo—no doubt Gandalf as well—saw the despair and worry behind that anger.

“I didn’t say that. But Belladonna, one of you, at least, will have to stay here. I have a way that will keep them stable longer… but it’ll require a warm, awake hobbit not under the influence of the Fell Winter.”

“You haven’t even told us what a ‘Fell Winter’ is,” Bilbo muttered and allowed his discontent to show on his face.

Gandalf blew out more smoke, and he finally seemed to consider them both. “Honestly, it can come from different places. This one? I figure someone got their hands on a relic of some amount of power, though I can’t be sure yet. What it ‘is’ and where it came from, though, is largely irrelevant at this moment. We must only get rid of it first, and I can worry about the cause after.”

Though she was still on her feet, Belladonna wasn’t as angry as she had been, and she made and effort to visibly relax. “And now if you’d tell us what you need us to do…?”

Blowing one last smoke ring, Gandalf straightened and went about putting his pipe away. He only spoke again after it was properly stowed. “What I need is for you, Belladonna, to stay here and keep your husband and your people alive. Bilbo will come with me to request help from the Elvenking.”

It was at this point that Bilbo would’ve interrupted- what utter nonsense that _his mother_ should stay at home and _he_ should go adventuring- but shock stayed his tongue. He gaped instead at the old wizard, but there was no spark of teasing in his eyes now, no hint that he was joking. So Belladonna was the one to break the quiet with a question.

“Thranduil? What does he know that you don’t?”

Gandalf laughed. “He has a great deal of old magic, and Elven magic is more tending toward nature. My powers, I could melt the snow, but it wouldn’t stop falling. It also wouldn’t wake the hobbits from their Fell slumber.”

“But you can show us how to keep them alive…?” she asked.

“I can. In fact, the seed that I have to give you is from Thranduil himself. I saw him before I came here which is why I wasn’t at your side the moment you sent for me. He’s waiting now for me to come back with a hobbit in tow.”

Finally, Bilbo found his voice. “Surely… surely it would be better to send my mother. I can stay and look after home and my father and the chickens and my rabbit. My neighbors too, of course. She’s been on adventures before-- she can do it again.”

“It must be you Bilbo.” Gandalf was staring down into his eyes, and Bilbo felt suddenly sure that he was being measured and appraised. Whatever Gandalf saw in his eyes seemed to please him, and he nodded before continuing. “Yes, yes, you can handle this adventure. Your mother can stand this winter and do what needs to be done here. You, you’re needed elsewhere to save this place.”

Gandalf offered him what might be a kindly smile, but Bilbo was too worried to be soothed by it.

“Mother… surely you agree with me….?”

Belladonna hesitated and looked between Gandalf and her son. Finally, she said, “Gandalf does nothing without some reason. If he says it needs to be you, Bilbo, you must go with him.” She turned to him now. “You can do this. I know you can.”

Then she kissed his forehead and embraced him. Bilbo stayed in his mother’s arms, shaking like a leaf as he tried to come to terms with what he was hearing. He’d be going on an adventure… if he was lucky, it’d be short lived.

“Visiting a king huh?” he said faintly, looking forlorn at the prospect. “I think I can manage that much. Though whatever kind of clothes do you wear for meeting a king??”

Though he smiled at Bilbo’s words, Gandalf didn’t interrupt them to laugh or poke fun at such a fussy worry to have. Instead, he wisely waited for them to part. Belladonna kept her hand in Bilbo’s though, and she straightened up as her manner became suddenly brusquer. She was itching to get started.

Tone huffy, she asked, “If he’s off visiting Elven kings, what task do you have for me Gandalf?”

“A little less exciting,” he admitted. “But just as important. Bring me to your garden, if you will. I’ll show you.”

So Belladonna lead the way back to her garden with Bilbo at her side and Gandalf stooping his way along through the small house behind them. When they got out into the back garden, Gandalf stuck his staff into the snow, and he moved it about here and there so that one round spot of ground was exposed. He leaned down and pushed a golden seed into the earth.

“Now watch,” Gandalf said softly.

Before their eyes a bush grew up from the ground. Bilbo let go of his mother’s hand to step away from the obvious show of magic, but Belladonna gently brushed her fingers through the leaves as they grew and changed at high speed. Then suddenly golden flowers and plump red berries burst into life and crowded the branches. The cold and the snow seemed not to touch the magical bush, and the snowflakes fell instead around the fresh berries and flowers.

“Ahh, here we are.” Gandalf moved forward and tapped one of the golden flowers. There was thick nectar inside that rippled slightly with the touch. “To care for this bush, you’ll need to water it twice a day- once at sunrise and again at sunset. you’ll need to give every hobbit in the Shire a sip of the flowers’ nectar to warm them and a single berry to sustain them. They only need to be fed like this once a week. You will also need to take a sip and eat a berry once a week yourself to keep the winter from driving you into the same sleep that they’re in.”

Belladonna looked uncertain. “There are a lot of hobbits in the Shire,” she said softly. “What if I can’t keep them all fed?”

“Take turns. They only need it once a week, so you can make rounds. Today, you can help all the hobbits in this part of town. Tomorrow, move over to another part of town. Make yourself a system, and keep to it so no one goes without for too long.”

“Alright…I suppose I’ll start with myself then.” She took for herself a sip of nectar and a single berry.

Only a few seconds passed before the berry had grown back. Both Bilbo and Belladonna exclaimed softly in surprise, but Gandalf merely smiled indulgently at the two of them.

“It has a lot of magic. Eventually, it’ll start to fail and wilt, but I do hope we’ve returned long before then.”

Bilbo’s heart kicked up into overdrive again, and he realized that Gandalf had finished all that needed to be said for Belladonna. There was a sickening feeling in his stomach as well as he processed the fact that Gandalf had given Belladonna a plan that would keep the Shire safe for weeks. Surely though, that didn’t mean Bilbo would be gone that long -- especially not if his quest was as simple as talking to a king.

The finished instructions also meant that Bilbo would have to go soon, and he wasn’t sure he was ready. Dreaming of going for a short trip to Bree or one of the towns of Men was one thing, but the reality that he’d soon be leaving his home and his family behind was hard medicine to swallow.

Perhaps his mother could see his worry in his face, and she reached out to take hold of his hand. “Come in with me, Bilbo. I’ll help you get a pack ready quick as anything, and then I have to get started on my job. Lots of mouths to feed.” She pulled him into the house, throwing a sharp glance at Gandalf that had the wizard lingering in the back garden to give them space.

It wasn’t until they were in Bilbo’s room, and Belladonna was pushing essentials into his rucksack that they spoke again.

“Mother,” Bilbo said, voice weak around the knot in his throat. “Mother I’m scared.”

His voice was watery, and tears pricked at his eyes. He didn’t want to leave, and he wasn’t cut out for adventures. If he must go on an adventure, he’d have much rather picked it than being heaved suddenly out into the world by dire necessity.

Almost as though she were waiting for him to speak, Belladonna dropped everything at once and came to her son to wipe away the tears now falling down his cheeks. “You shall be meeting Thranduil first, my boy, and he’s nothing to be scared of. A bit strange as kings are wont to be, but nothing out of the common way.”

At the wry attempt at humor, Bilbo chuckled and rubbed his eyes.

Belladonna knew that the meeting with a king wasn’t the scary part, and she continued more seriously. “You have more bravery and strength than you yet know. You have the best of your father and me all rolled up into one brave hobbit, and I have every faith that you can handle anything. A healthy dose of fear is good sometimes-- makes you careful in sticky situations. But never let fear stop you from doing what you know or feel is right. Perhaps there are frightening things out there, but there is beauty, my dearest boy, and kindness. And you go with your father and mother’s love to protect you.”

For a second, Bilbo mulled this over, and it was his mother’s unwavering tone that struck him. She believed in him with no hint of irony or exaggeration, and the words which might have sounded like platitudes from anyone else made Bilbo feel suddenly warm.

A bit of that Tookish spirit swelled up in him, and he rose up with his shoulders back. He was plump and young, and he didn’t strike nearly the adventurous figure that his mother did. “There’s no helping it, I suppose. I must go and do what needs to be done. I’ll bring you back something shall I? A bit of Elven wine if I can manage to get some after I convince the Elvenking to end the winter?”

Butterflies still fluttered in Bilbo’s stomach, but his worry and nerves felt more manageable. Bilbo watched relief flood Belladonna’s face, and she leaned up to give him one last kiss to his forehead.

“How about flowers or seeds instead? It’s so drab to see all this white hiding the spring colors.”

\---

Belladonna didn’t watch Bilbo leave. It was his own request. If she were there in view, Bilbo wasn’t quite sure he’d manage to tear himself away and leave her alone in Bag End with Bungo stuck in Fell sleep. So they’d said their goodbyes in the sitting room, and Bilbo murmured a few words to his father as well. Then he was standing at the gate with Gandalf.

“Give me your pack Bilbo,” he said. “I have only one set of seven league boots, so for the first part of the journey, you really must be on my back.”

Not even bothering to argue, Bilbo handed over his rucksack, and he clambered up onto his back.

“Seven league boots can be very nauseating the first time, so you should close your eyes,” Gandalf said. “When next you open then, we’ll be on the other side of the wall and before the gates of the Elvenking. Are you ready?

Taking one deep breath, Bilbo hesitated for the barest moment before he closed his eyes tight and said, “Yes. Let’s start our adventure.”

Gandalf chuckled softly and moved forward a step, and there was a sudden wind roaring around them as they zipped through landscapes with long strides. If Bilbo had dared to look, he would have seen a dizzying blur of forest and life around them, but he heeded Gandalf’s words to keep his eyes closed. The adrenaline of this show of magic and the thrill of the ride had Bilbo’s Tookish curiosity peaked, and for a moment, at least, he thought that adventures might not be so bad.

And so the first few steps of his journey took Bilbo leagues away from the Shire and stole the breath from his lungs.


	2. The Elvenking's Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets the Elvenking Thranduil, and a spell is cast.

Perhaps almost vomiting on a wizard’s shoes was not the best way to start an adventure. As soon as they’d come to a jarring halt, Gandalf had lowered Bilbo to the ground. Although the ride itself had been exhilarating, Bilbo was suddenly on his own two feet, blinking around at a landscape quite different from where he started. He and Gandalf were standing at the brow of a hill, and the wide farmland of the Shire had been replaced with a seemingly endless forest stretching out in all directions.

The cold had been replaced with fresh spring sunshine and warmth, and there were elves out in the grass and trees in front of massive gate. Instead of a traditional stone wall of protection, an impenetrable line of trees, vines, and thorns grew so thick together that it formed a natural barrier around elven city. This wall of trees disappeared into the dense foliage of the forest so completely that it was impossible to tell exactly how large the city was from the outside.

All of this would’ve excited Bilbo usually, he’d like to think, but between the change in weather and scenery, he was suddenly overwhelmed with vertigo.  He stumbled when his feet touched soft grass, and the world tilted unnaturally around him. Unable to stay upright through the dizziness, he fell to his knees and bent forward.

For several minutes, Bilbo struggled to keep his breakfast down, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. The world slowly stopped spinning, and Bilbo gagged a few times before he finally caught his balance and the dizziness faded just a bit. Still feeling queasy but no longer in danger of staining Gandalf’s shoes, Bilbo dragged himself back up to his feet. Gandalf favored Bilbo with an earnest smile. 

“One gets used to seven league boots and Babylon candles after a while, but they’re always tricky at first. You did rather well.” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled with mirth for a moment. “Most Tooks handle it as well as you, but I did have a bit of a mess after I took a stroll with a Brandybuck in them.” 

“I can imagine,” Bilbo grumbled, but he did smile as well. “That’s a story I’d like to hear.”  

“And one day you will,” Gandalf told him. “For now, let’s get down to see His Majesty Thranduil. He’s probably impatient by now.” 

With merely a nod, Bilbo put his rucksack back on and started down the hill. It was steeper than he expected, and he was distracted by the elves and the great gate so he stumbled quite badly. 

“What I wouldn’t do for a walking stick…” Bilbo mumbled in distaste. 

“Well, for now, you can hold my hand, and I shall help you down.” Gandalf smiled at him, but there was no hint of unkindness or condescension. 

So, Bilbo accepted the offered hand, and it made the way down more manageable. When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, elves were openly staring at them. Some of them seemed amused about the small creature clinging to Gandalf’s hand, but others were frowning at their guests. Belladonna had told him that some elves could be suspicious of strangers, but with Gandalf there, perhaps the more friendly elves found him harmless.

“I told the Elvenking I would return,” Gandalf called out to a guard at the gate. He let go of Bilbo’s hand to pat the hobbit twice on the back. “And I have brought a hobbit with me to talk to him. Please tell your king that Master Baggins and I have come for counsel.”  

The guard nodded and disappeared into the elven kingdom through the gate, though it barely opened at all. A bit of a disappointment, honestly, as Bilbo strained up to peer past the gate as it slowly swung inwards. He only saw the thinnest sliver of the kingdom beyond before the great doors were closed again. 

In the meantime, some of the more curious elves began to approach them. 

“A Master Baggins?” a bold blond elf nearby said. “I didn’t realize your little halflings came in that variety, Mithrandir. How mysterious!” 

“Personally,” another said. “I rather like those little Tooks you bring. They’re always quite up for a bit of mischief. How about a Baggins? Are they mischievous?” 

The reception was admittedly strange, but so long as they were friendly and tolerably polite, Bilbo had no reason to complain. Up close, elves were even more beautiful than he would have ever thought possible—taller too. Bilbo fell back a step as they came close, towering over him, and he blushed at all the pretty faces and curious eyes turned toward him. 

Gandalf wasn’t at all eager to help him out of the situation, and so it would seem that Bilbo was on his own. Bilbo straightened his waistcoat and gave them a little bow and then offered them an uncertain smile.  

“I don’t know about mischief,” Bilbo said then. “A bit fond of wine and pipeweed, perhaps?” 

“Oh, I do like a bit of wine myself, little Baggins,” said an elf with dark brown hair. She leaned down to look into his face. “So perhaps we shall like Bagginses as well, hmm?” 

The smile that the elf sent his way lit up her whole face, and Bilbo blushed to the tips of his ears. The elves must have noticed his embarrassment if the chorus of cheerful laughter was any indication. Several curious faces were surrounding him now as they all leaned down to see him. 

“Oh he’s young, isn’t he? All tomato red!” 

“Red, yes, though with that soft messy hair and those big brown eyes, he does look something like a little rabbit, doesn’t he?” 

“A little rabbit indeed!” agreed another. “So nervous he might bolt." 

Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t shy, and despite being overwhelmed and flustered, he rallied quite bravely. He wanted, for some reason he couldn’t quite name, for the elves to like him, and strangely, the teasing didn’t have him feeling even the slightest bit indignant. Definitely peculiar, he thought, because if most others compared him to tomatoes or rabbits, Bilbo knew he would be quite in a tizzy about it. 

“A rabbit, dear heavens no. I’m as respectable a hobbit as they come, and you may call me Bilbo!” He took a breath to steel his nerves. Politeness was easy enough, but he was about to try something else his Baggins side taught him—flattery. It was quite a bit more embarrassing. “And how could I not be nervous? With such a crowd of lovely, clever elves talking to me.” 

The elves were even more pleased when they heard this speech, and their laughter rang out bright and sweet. Bilbo felt a thrill of success, but he became more embarrassed by his own daring. So he glanced up to see how the old wizard responded to him, but Gandalf had one of his unreadable expressions on, merely raising a brow at him.  

Regardless, the elves were taken with Bilbo, and that was good enough for him. 

“Oh, I do like Bagginses. Come and sit in the flowers with us Bilbo! We’re making daisy crowns, and I’m sure one would look lovely in those honey colored curls.” The elf with the brown hair held out a hand to him, cheeks pink from her laughter still, and Bilbo understood why his mother liked the elves so much.  

Ageless and lovely yet somehow so full of life and curiosity… yes, it made a lot of sense that Belladonna liked them. 

Bilbo slipped his hand into the elf’s slender waiting palm, and he was on the verge of being lead to the edge of the forest where many elves sat weaving together daisies. The guard chose to come back at just that time though, and Gandalf finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry that I must steal your new friend before you even have a chance at fun,” he said with a note of apology in his voice. “But we can’t keep His Majesty waiting, can we? Let’s go, Bilbo.” 

There were cries of disappointment, but Bilbo smiled at them all. He gave the Elven woman’s knuckles a brief kiss, and he thanked them all for their kind attentions. This sent the elves into another bout of laughter and several calls to ‘Mithrandir’ to _“bring the polite Master Baggins back to play!”_

Though the pink hadn’t left his cheeks from their teasing, Bilbo was all together rather pleased with elves. Perhaps their king was as friendly and jovial as his subjects playing out at the gates. In that case, this errand would be easier on his heart than he had dared hope. Thoughts of his impending meeting with royalty were driven out when he slipped past the gates into the Elven city. 

The trees that grew around the city were tall, but the center of the main courtyard was spacious and uncovered, affording a lovely view of the blue sky above. Indeed, the city was larger than he had expected from the outside, and he looked down paths that branched away from the center of the city. There were rows of wooden houses, buildings, and stores. It was somehow grand and humble all at once- the great elves in all their wisdom living in houses that any Man of the outside world might build if they had the mind and skill to do it. 

The skill… That would be difficult for most to replicate though. Bilbo knew the elves could live unendingly unless faced with war or evil magics, and in that time they had completely perfected their crafts. The buildings were so delicately and expertly crafted that wood seemed to have sprouted and grown naturally up into archways and windows- though perhaps the thick vines and plants growing over and around the houses helped with this image. 

Still, immense time and effort had been put into these buildings, and they were all beautiful. There were gazebos in the courtyard too, just as impressive and beautifully carved. Elves sang and ate and drank together beneath them as Bilbo walked by admiring everything. 

Nothing, of course, was as astounding or as beautiful as the palace at the center. 

Palace almost seemed the wrong word for it, honestly, because it was nothing like palaces on the Bilbo’s side of the world. The central tower was made up of the largest, widest tree that Bilbo had ever seen, and the tops of its branches spread out in a great canopy covering the shorter towers and buildings that made up the palace. Though the rest of the towers were stone, they were covered in vines, and they looked as much a part of the forest that had grown around the Elven city as the great tree at its center.

All Bilbo could do was silently gape at the palace as they approached, admiring the majesty of it and how in harmony it seemed with the greenery growing thick through it and around it. 

“The tree in the center is the First Tree that ever grew,” Gandalf said in a conversational tone. “That’s why it’s so large. It was the first, and from it came all other trees. Oh, they’ve branched out into so many different kinds, but that one is the First.” 

Bilbo turned wide eyes up at Gandalf and tried to keep his disbelief out of his expression. The wizard didn’t seem the type to take kindly to having his wisdom doubted. So he nodded mutely, and he let himself be led up the steps and into the heavily guarded palace. As they walked through the outer areas, he listened to Gandalf’s quiet explanation. 

“Deep in the old days, the first king of the Greenwood elves befriended the First Tree. It was because of that friendship the First gave itself to become the heart of the kingdom when the creatures of the Elder Lands- the orcs and the spiders and goblins for example- threatened the elves and their prosperity.” 

“So it gave up its life for the elves?” he asked. His tone was more breathless than he intended it to be, but he was walking toward the door carved into the very First Tree. It was larger than life viewed from so close, and it stirred his heart.  

“Of course not. The First Tree might be dormant, sleeping now, but it still lives and grows with the elven people. It might serve also as a tower for His Majesty Thranduil, but not even being cut into could kill the First. The magic here is deep and ancient,” Gandalf said. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to feel it if touch the bark.” 

As he walked into the First Tree, Bilbo laid his hand on the arch of the doorway in curiosity, and he gasped at what he felt. Indeed, there was energy surging beneath the bark, a life force too powerful and old to understand. Hobbits were not connected to forests and trees like the elves were, but they did have a deep bond with the earth and with plants in general. So this sudden connection with this tree had struck Bilbo with a yearning for his plants- for his corner of their back garden where he grew his strawberries and tomatoes and flowers.  

It wouldn’t be the first time yearning for that home, but even dreaming, the First Tree must have felt his discontent. There was a wash of relaxing emotions, of something welcoming and calm, that resonated from the tree. Bilbo clung to these feelings as he let his hand slip free from the bark and hurried after Gandalf. 

They went through hallways that were dimly lit yet not grim or dreary. When they came before another set of large carved doors, an elf opened them and called out in a deep voice, “Mithrandir and a Master Baggins to seek counsel with His Majesty, King Thranduil.” 

On an ornately carved throne, a regal, elegant elf sat in shimmering trailing robes with a crown of wooden branches. He was leaning back and looking down at the two of them with cool blue eyes. Bilbo felt rather small and humble standing before a throne and a king so grand, but if he’d been less nervous, he would likely have realized that the Elven king- vain as he was- had posed quite particularly to cut the imposing figure that he did.

As it was, Bilbo didn’t realize just how much care Thranduil had taken to impress, and so he wore his wonder and awe on his face. Dipping into a bow, he thankfully missed Thranduil’s smug expression at his expense. 

“Nice to see you again so soon, Your Majesty,” Gandalf said then, pushing Bilbo out in front of him. 

Nervous as anything, Bilbo dipped into another bow and said in a small voice. “Bilbo Baggins, Your Majesty.” 

Thranduil nodded, his expression neutral, and waved his hand to him. “A pleasure, Master Baggins. Now, you came for counsel?” 

Bilbo looked up at Gandalf, but the old wizard shook his head. The Elvenking’s impassive expression made him more nervous than ever, and he couldn’t gauge what the elf was thinking at all. It would be better for Gandalf to speak- the old wizard wouldn’t be intimidated by a king even one as regal and mighty as this right? 

It would seem that Gandalf had other ideas. 

“Tell His Majesty what you’re here for Bilbo, my boy. It’s your request after all.” Gandalf gave him a twinkling smile and pushed Bilbo forward two more steps. 

Thranduil stood, towering over the room, and Bilbo pulled out a handkerchief to twist in his fingers. It took him a few moments to arrange his thoughts, and finally he let out a long low breath. Then he tilted his chin up and smiled just a bit. 

“Well, you see Your Grace, my town past the wall, outside of the Elder Lands, is suffering from a Fell Winter.” Bilbo couldn’t keep looking into Thranduil’s face any longer, because those icy intelligent eyes made him too nervous. “Gandalf said that the Elvenking…” He paused to clear his throat. “That is to say, you, Your Majesty, would know how to end it.” 

Thranduil came down the steps as Bilbo finished his speech, and he said softly, “I do know how to end it. What you’re asking for, though… it requires quite a bit of magic.” 

“Oh is that so…?” Bilbo asked softly, fretting with his handkerchief again. The words sounded almost like an admonishment for making such a request, and he sucked in a breath to brace himself. “I hadn’t thought of that at all… My apologies.” 

Bilbo looked up at the Elvenking and watched as he drew close. For a moment, Thranduil stood over him in silence and considered him. Up close, the king’s face was beautiful, stern, and impassive. His expression was carefully cold and perhaps somewhat calculating. Thranduil was looking into Bilbo and measuring him, but there was no hint in his expression or in his eyes as to what he thought of the gentlehobbit trembling in front of him. 

“I did not take your ignorance for impertinence, Master Baggins. You need not apologize. Halflings never know much of magic. Whatever made your Fell Winter, it is strong. I shall need more power before I can grant your request. At present, I don’t have enough energy.” His expression was still cold and somewhat distant, but there was no maliciousness or scolding in his tone at all. 

Still Bilbo felt the sting of his words as though he’d been struck. 

Worry and disappointment overwhelmed him, and Bilbo felt tears come to his eyes. “So… so you can’t help me…? The Shire is trapped in winter until the berries and nectar run out.” The thought of returning without an answer, of toiling with his mother hopelessly to keep the other hobbits alive just a few days more—the image of it was powerful in his mind, and he wore his despair on his face as he tried to mop the tears from his cheek with his handkerchief.

For a moment, Thranduil watched Bilbo rub at his eyes then he looked to Gandalf. “He’s quite young, this halfling. Earnest too, to cry so easily.” The king turned, sweeping his long robes behind him as he moved to the large windows cut into the side of the tree. Looking out over his city toward the wall of protective thorns, he continued, “You can help, Master Baggins. You’ll just need to complete a spell first.”   

Bilbo’s voice hitched uncertainly, tears still slowly dripping down his cheeks. “I can what? A spell? Oh dear heavens, I don’t have a magical bone in my body.” 

Thranduil paused and looked him over. “It would seem that you don’t, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll be laying a spell on you, and if you can complete it, then it’ll build up enough magic that I can do what you need done.” 

“Oh… oh.” Bilbo felt the color draining from his face, and he twisted the handkerchief in his hands again. “And what happens… what happens if I can’t complete the spell?

“I don’t think you should worry about that- you either collect enough magic or you don’t. It’s the process of actually completing your tasks that is dangerous, and I’m afraid that I can’t tell you what dangers you might encounter. Know that the Elder Lands are treacherous, and it will not be easy.” 

Bilbo looked to Gandalf then back to Thranduil. Neither of them offered any kind of explanation of the kind of dangers that he might face, but Bilbo has an active enough imagination. All kinds of horrific things could happen out in these wilder lands, but before he can truly start to panic, Belladonna’s words came unbidden to his mind. 

_Perhaps there are frightening things out there, but there is beauty, my dearest boy, and kindness._

So he put on the most determined smile that he could, and he said, “Then I shall have to stay as safe as I can… Gandalf will help out as well I think? I should be alright.”

The thought of Gandalf helping him gave Bilbo a bit of courage. Gandalf smiled in that increasingly familiar twinkling way- mischievous and knowing.  

“I won’t be along every step of the way, but I shall be helping you as much as I can, Bilbo.” 

Not the most thrilling boost of confidence, but it would have to do. Bilbo looked back to Thranduil, and he straightened his waistcoat. The king’s expression was as distant and impassive as it had always been, but Bilbo smiled at him anyways as he said, “Lay your spell, if you please Your Majesty. And I’ll go and gather what magic I can.”

“Good,” Thranduil replied. “Pay close attention to what I will say. It’s what you shall have to do.”

Then he took a deep breath, stretched out a hand in Bilbo’s direction, and he recited:  

 

“Go and catch a falling star,  
    Get with child a mandrake root,  
Tell me where all past years are,  
    Or who cleft the devil's foot,  
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,  
Or to keep off envy's stinging,  
            And find  
            What wind  
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,  
    Things invisible to see,  
Ride ten thousand days and nights,  
    Till age snow white hairs on thee,  
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,  
All strange wonders that befell thee,  
            And swear,  
            No where  
Lives a woman true, and fair.  
   
If thou find'st one, let me know,  
    Such a pilgrimage were sweet;  
Yet do not, I would not go,  
    Though at next door we might meet;  
Though she were true, when you met her,  
And last, till you write your letter,  
            Yet she  
            Will be  
False, ere I come, to two, or three.”

 

At first, as Thranduil spoke, Bilbo began to panic. Catch a falling star? Get with child a mandrake root? Find the past years? All of those things were utterly impossible to do. Every single one of them. Then he realized that he recognized it. 

“But that’s not a spell at all,” Bilbo replied, tone indignant with his surprise.

Thranduil merely arched a brow at him, lips just barely tilting up into something close to a smile. “I thought you said you knew nothing of magic? How should you know what is and is not a spell?” 

“Why because that is, in fact, a poem of the Big People! I’ve heard that before. My mother doesn’t really like that one.”  Bilbo still felt vaguely affronted, and while he couldn’t think of a reason the Elvenking would tease him, he couldn’t help but feel that he was being mocked. 

“Oh, is that so?” Thranduil was definitely smiling now, his impassiveness apparently no longer necessary since the conversation was suddenly less grave. 

“Yes, because it is a list of impossible things to do! Things that Men think are impossible, and the poem ends implying that all of those wild things are at least more feasible than finding a good and honest woman.” Bilbo huffed a little. “Speaking of human women, of course, but my mother figured that even as a lady of a different race she was likely being slighted as well. Said it sounded like a bitter man jilted by a woman who was too good for him.”  

“But perhaps, Master Baggins,” the Elvenking replied with humor in his tone. “It’s simply a matter of a writer who happens to be male and happens to love women. Wouldn’t it read the same if you simply changed or removed the gender? In that case it’s just a person who has a cynical view of love and beauty.” 

Bilbo thought for a second, and he finally shrugged. “I suppose. That would be even bleaker and more pessimistic. I’m sure she’d still disapprove.” Then he frowned. “But regardless of what the poet meant, it hardly makes it any more of a spell than a poem I might write myself.”  

“You write poetry?” Thranduil seemed to have caught onto a detail Bilbo hadn’t meant to include rather than his point. “I have enjoyed our talk so far, Master Baggins, and I should like to read your poetry if the opportunity presents.” Thranduil favored him with an honest smile—in fact, it was almost warm by the king’s standards. 

The expression and the interest was so earnest that Bilbo felt his face heat up, and he already had words on the tip of his tongue to plead modesty before the king who had no doubt heard all the most beautiful poetry already. Thranduil strode over to him then, though, and Bilbo’s words died on his lips as the king looked down at him. 

“But for now, simply know that some of the greatest magic is taking something that already exists and twisting it around and building it up into something greater. Even things that seem small or innocent or, dare I say it, _normal_ can be great if given the right circumstances.” Thranduil frowned a bit then and added. “This is what Mithrandir would have me believe not just of things but of the halflings and people beyond the wall as well.” 

The tone suggested that the king wasn’t so convinced on that point, but he was trying to be encouraging, Bilbo realized. There was a sense of detachment again, but Bilbo rather thought that Thranduil wanted to see him succeed. It was strange- Bilbo got the distinct impression that the Elvenking didn’t quite believe he could do this, but at the same time, he’d like to be proven wrong.  

What a strange way to be.  

So he said then, “I have another question then, but this one might be impertinent.”  

Thranduil arched a brow at him, and then he looked back toward the guards at the door and Gandalf. The wizard had fallen so silent during this conversation that Bilbo had quite forgotten he was there for a moment, and he wondered if he should go back to Gandalf’s side now.  

“Let us have a bit of privacy then.” He raised his voice and addressed the guards. “Take Mithrandir to the dining hall. We’ll soon give our guests their dinner before they start on their way. I will bring Master Baggins along shortly.” With that, he waved his hand, and the two guards moved to Gandalf’s side.  

“Oh that isn’t necessary—.” Bilbo said then, reaching toward Gandalf.  

“By your leave,” Gandalf said over Bilbo’s protests, and he gave a little bow before he turned and shuffled out with the guards.  

The way Gandalf moved, Bilbo noted, made him look deceptively old and weak, and he wondered why the wizard would do that. He didn’t have time to think on it because Thranduil was moving toward his throne again. After a moment’s hesitation, Bilbo followed him and tried not to feel out of place. Instead of climbing the steps to the throne, Thranduil sat upon the stairs. Like this, Bilbo was looking suddenly into his face directly, and he was no longer straining to look up at him.  

“Oh,” Bilbo said as he realized that the Elvenking was trying to let them talk more comfortably. “Thank you. My neck was getting quite sore.”  

Thranduil made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I thought only to be comfortable while you asked your questions. Now let’s hear it and be done. Your quest can’t be delayed long.”  

Indeed, the Elvenking looked more relaxed now as he lounged on the stairs to his throne. It wasn’t a kingly position or a grand one, to sit down on the stairs to look a short hobbit in the eyes. Gandalf and the others had been dismissed not for privacy. Rather, Thranduil didn’t want to shirk off his kingly manner before them.  

“Well,” Bilbo said carefully. “You sound so… pessimistic when you talked about the poem and the journey. But also, I think you want me to succeed. I don’t understand how you could think both.”  

Cool blue eyes considered him for a long moment before Thranduil finally answered. “I have lived long and seen both joy and sadness- kindness and cruelty. I have even seen the good-hearted of all races succeed, but I have also seen them fail and fall.” He smiled then, brow arching again. “I’m cynical, you’re right, but when I have the chance to observe, I do usually hope to see some triumph or heroics overcoming adversity. So yes, I know how easily you could fail, but if you succeed, it’d make for quite an interesting story.”  

“Huh… so you just want to observe? Is that why you’re helping without asking for anything in return?” Bilbo had wondered on that. Usually great magic came not just with danger but with a price, but the Elvenking hadn’t laid one at all. 

“I ask only this—that each time you complete a task, you bring something of that task to me. Some tasks- catching a falling star for instance- comes with something you must bring back. A star or a mandrake root. But some, like the mermaids, perhaps you’ll learn something. You cannot bring a mermaid back and you cannot bottle a song perhaps, but you can bring back sand or a flower that grows at the edge of the water.”

“That’s all you want truly?” Bilbo asked. “A bunch of trinkets from a journey?”  

“Trinkets,” he repeated with a laugh. His tone implied that he thought Bilbo naïve. “No indeed. History, proof, items gotten after some amount of danger and cleverness and heroism—these are powerful things, and they make for the best stories and the best treasures.”

“Alright,” Bilbo said then. “I’ll bring you back what you ask for. Is it indeed worth the magic you’ll spend saving the Shire though? Is it equal payment?”  

“It will be if you succeed,” Thranduil replied. Then he started to stand, thinking the conversation finished.  

Then Bilbo asked, tone only slightly exasperated, “But wherever shall I start on these impossible things? Even if you can do them in the Elder Lands, I haven’t the faintest clue where to start.”  

“A star is falling tonight,” the Elvenking replied with a sharp smile. “And you should start there. After we take our supper, I shall send you on to the star, and you must catch him.”  

“A star is falling tonight,” Bilbo repeated with some trepidation. He wouldn’t have much time with the elves then if he’d be striding off in those boots again. That was quite the shame. Bilbo even enjoyed the company of their distant, cynical king, and he’d like to stay longer if he could.  

His thoughts distract him rather fully from the use of ‘him’ instead of ‘it’.  

\---  

“I thought you would be starting with me at least!” Bilbo cried, looking up at Gandalf with a frantic expression. “At least at the start.”

“I’ll be right behind you lad,” Gandalf replied but his tone and his manner was only the slightest bit soothing. “You have to catch the star after all, and I refuse to use a Babylon candle with anyone else. One stray thought or slight difference in what we’re thinking of, and we go off in a totally random direction.”  

Babylon candles apparently took a user straight to whatever they were thinking of, and although Gandalf didn’t elaborate, he had made it sound like he’d ended up in places he didn’t like at all by sharing a candle with someone else.  

“How shall you find me though?”  

“I’m a wizard, Bilbo.” He laughed and shook his head. “I can at least keep track of a hobbit and follow after him with my boots.”  

With this, he pushed a candle into Bilbo’s hands. “Here you are. You’ll think only of the star, of the falling star that you wish to catch, and then you’ll light the candle. Next thing you know, you’ll be standing just in the right spot to get it.”  

It sounded so easy, but he figured it wouldn’t be.

Especially when Thranduil moved forward to hand him a long thin chain. “Stars can be hard to keep down. Most want to make a quick attempt to get back to the sky, and you may need to use this to keep the star grounded and coming with you. This chain will open and close at your will only. Just put it about the star and will it to connect- the chain will come together and only be opened again if you will it. Be safe on your journey, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo had figured that a star on earth would be burned out and smoking- a star no more but a rock. A shining shimmering point of light darting about sounded more beautiful but also much more difficult to deal with. So he accepted the chain as well.

“Well, alright,” Bilbo said. He was wearing his pack, and he had a candle in one hand and a chain in the other. “Light the thing, Gandalf, but you better follow after quickly. I shouldn’t like to do this alone.”  

Gandalf smiled knowingly, and though it irritated him, Bilbo was already realizing that asking what that expression meant would be no good. Gandalf never revealed more than he had to, and he didn’t like directly answering questions.

Instead he said, “Good luck with the star!” and he lit the candle.  

There was a rush of black and a roar of wind, and then Bilbo was standing in a crater. The vertigo was worse this time, but he had expected it. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing until the dizziness passed. When he opened his eyes again to look about himself, he saw burnt and leveled trees on either side of the crater. 

“Oh this must be where the star fell!” He heard a bark of angry laughter, and he spun around, almost falling onto his backside as he found himself looking up into fierce angry eyes.

A dwarf was standing before him—a full head taller than him with thick long black hair and a touch of grey at the temples. The dwarf was wearing furs and a deep blue tunic, and he might have had a beard at some point. His stubble was thick and dark, but the hair had been singed and burned off.

Rather  recently, in fact, because Bilbo could still smell burnt hair as the dwarf leaned forward to glare at him. This was when Bilbo finally noticed the dwarf’s expression and took a step back. Rage and frustration shone in that face, and there was no reason to risk his luck by staying in arm’s length.  

“Indeed, a star fell here? I wouldn’t have guessed.” The tone was harsh, angry, and the dwarf tried to move forward a step in response to Bilbo’s retreat.

His ankle couldn’t take the weight, and he stumbled. After a moment, he caught his balance, and he turned sharp angry eyes on Bilbo. The dwarf’s eyes were a grey blue that reminded him of the sky before a lightning storm, and Bilbo found himself forgetting what quite it was that he wanted to say.

After a moment of staring, the dwarf sneered, and taken aback by the aggression in his face, Bilbo responded with fiercest frown that he could manage. He knew it wasn’t near so impressive as the dwarf’s, but that hardly mattered. It was the principle of the thing after all. 

“Yes a star! A star fell here, and I came looking for it.”

The dwarf scoffed at him and stretched his arms out wide, a mocking sort of display of his fine clothes. “And how do you like the star now that you’ve found it?”

“But I haven’t found it—” Bilbo started to say, eyes instantly moving to look around at the ground. 

The dwarf made an indignant sound. The implications were clicking into place though, and Bilbo felt suddenly rather silly. “Wait, you…? You’re the star? That’s what you mean right?”

“Yes, in fact, I am a star, and you are a simpleton if you don’t even recognize that much.”

“But you’re a dwarf…”  

The laugh he got in response was mocking and derisive. “The first dwarves were carved of the most beautiful dazzling stones in the universe, and wouldn’t you know? Those stones were stars. That story will have to wait.” The dwarf- the star?- leveled a imperious expression on him and demanded. “Because you are going to help me out of this blasted hole right now.”  

The dwarf’s tone made him sound like he was directing a servant, and his derision for Bilbo was quite evident. For now, though, any anger that Bilbo felt was background noise at best. He had completed his first task, and his relief overshadowed everything else. 

Quick as anything, Bilbo moved forward and locked his chain around the star’s wrist. As Thranduil said, all it took was a thought, and the chain connected seamlessly together. Nothing could unlock it unless Bilbo himself willed it.  The star’s expression was incredulous and confused, and Bilbo felt he must say something.

“So sorry,” he said in a fretful tone. “But I’m afraid you shall have to come with me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have great affection for Thranduil. I also intended to do a chapter a week and I'm sad this one was late.


End file.
